


April Showers Bring May Flowers

by lafillechanceuse



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Family Feels, Flowers, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Getting Together, Language of Flowers, M/M, Post-Grand Prix Final, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 14:27:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10766112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lafillechanceuse/pseuds/lafillechanceuse
Summary: Everyone is a little too invested in Yuri's love life.





	April Showers Bring May Flowers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InkSplatterM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkSplatterM/gifts).



“So what do you think?” Mila asked him with a winning smile, shoving something in his face as he stepped up to the rink. Flipping his bangs out of the way, Yuri stared down at the bouquet of a dozen flowers he was currently holding.

“What’re these for?”

“You forgot about your date already?”

She pursed her lips.

“You’re as bad as Victor. Maybe I should’ve gotten a bigger arrangement.”

“Maybe you should’ve given it to your hockey player before you broke up with her.”

He snipped instinctively, dodging as she lunged at him halfheartedly from the other side of the railing. Yakov was in his office, so if they fought, they would be able to go at it for a while, but Mila never left the ice once she had her skates on. She frowned, slumping over the rim of the rink, arms folded. “It’s not like you, though. You show up to every club he plays at, even if you have to sneak in.”

He---oh.

_Oh._

Of course he had remembered. Without his carefully crafted efforts, Otabek never would have been able to come to Russia to train with them. He reasoned with the ever dubious Lilia and the worst of Yakov’s stubbornness for weeks to get him here to St. Petersburg. Still…was that the expectation of his visit? Focused on pushing the plan through to bring him to his home rink, Yuri had never thought about it.  

“It’s not like that,” he settled on.

“Is it?”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Otabek’s coming to watch you skate today. You can’t just greet him with nothing.”

“My exhibition at the gala wasn’t nothing,” Yuri argued. “He was the most important part of it.”

“So he was your date to the gala,” Mila shot back. “Who’s to say this isn’t a date, then?”

She had him there. Glancing down at the bouquet, Yuri shut his mouth and considered his options. If he confirmed it, she would gloat for days. If he denied it, she would argue him into a corner, then gloat for days. Either way, it would be difficult to salvage his dignity. He wondered whether it would be easier if Yakov came in and broke it all up, then dismissed it out of hand. The last thing he needed was to explain to Otabek the reason for one of his infamous rants.

“What are you doing?” Georgi asked, stalking onto the ice in figure hugging black sweats and two day old eyeliner. He regarded the two of them, and his eyes narrowed at the sight of the flowers arranged in Yuri’s arms.

“No…you wouldn’t. You can’t possibly give him this, Yuratchka!” Georgi wailed, flinging himself onto the younger boy in an attempt to wrest them away. “This entire bouquet is a disaster!”

“Fuck off! The hag picked it!” Yuri shouted, wrestling out of Georgi’s grasp. Mila pouted.

“I thought it was pretty.”

“Do you want him dead? You only give someone even numbers if it’s for a funeral.”

She shrugged.

“So we take out a few. Problem solved.”

“And that’s just the beginning. The lilies smell too strongly, the carnations are too formal, the orchids doom you to heartbreak—and half of them are yellow, Mila. _Yellow_. Are you trying to sabotage him?”

“You’re reading into it too much, Georgi.”

“I’m trying to save him from the heartbreak wrought upon me by my former beloved’s foolish decision.”  

“Actually, isn’t yellow Anya’s favorite color?”

Victor’s voice rang out as he strolled over to them with his arm around Yuuri, who gave them a small, shy wave. Georgi deflated with a whimper, then lunged for the other side of the rink. Though his pointed dramatic gestures and footwork could hardly be ignored, the four of them managed to all the same.

“What’s going on here?”

“I bought Yuri flowers for his—“

“It’s not a—“

“ _Date_ , with Otabek, and he got mad at me for helping him, and then Georgi got mad at me for helping him because I did it wrong.” Mila crossed her arms, Yuri quietly seething. Victor looked over at the arrangement in his arms and held out his hands.

“May I see them?”

Yuri handed it to him. Arms full of flowers, Victor examined the bouquet.

“It’s beautiful, Mila, and you chose well—“

“Thank you!” She interjected, satisfied.

“But this won’t do at all.”

 “See if I ever try to help any of you ever again,” she grumbled and finally pushed herself off the railing to warm up on the ice.

“It’s too much for another date. It would be more appropriate for an anniversary gift. If you give him this, he’ll feel smothered.”

Behind him, Yuuri exchanged a long, _long_ look with his Russian counterpart.

“Something simple.”

With a flourish, he presented Yuri with a single red rose, a light blue ribbon tied in a bow around it.

“Give this to Otabek. I’m sure he’ll adore it.”

He winked at Yuri, then gave his own Yuuri a gentle squeeze.

“Come, Yuuri. We have to start choreographing your short program today for next season, but I want to make sure you can land all your jumps in practice first before we go beyond step sequences.”

“I’ll catch up with you in a minute, Vitya. I need to talk to him about something.”

“Hurry up,” Victor purred and pressed a kiss to his temple. “I’m missing you already.”

Yuri grimaced. Yuuri smiled at Victor, who took the bouquet with him into the locker room, then turned back to Yuri once he was gone.

“He wanted to buy you a dozen roses for Otabek, but I talked him out of it.”

With a sigh, Yuri felt genuine relief easing the tension in his shoulders.

“Thanks, katsudon.”

He paused.

“Yurio?

“Yeah?”

Yuuri gave him a reassuring smile.

“Just be yourself. You’ll be fine.”

For someone who had almost definitely never been in a relationship, then fallen into being practically married to his own coach in a dizzyingly short time, that was the best advice anyone had given Yuri all day. He nodded, and then, finally, for the first time he set foot in there that day, he was left to his own devices.

Well, except for Georgi skating his heart out over on the other half of the rink, but he had watched him go through so many girlfriends in his home rink that at this point, it was practically background noise. Checking the time on his phone, Yuri took a deep breath. The doors to the rink opened and Otabek entered, gym bag slung across one shoulder, his water bottle dangling from the side. Yuri yearned for the breadth of his shoulders, the strength in his hands, the way the corner of his mouth would quirk up for him and only him when a particularly clever barb from Yuri hit the mark. Self-conscious of the rose in his hand, of this whole cobbled together plan that might render this whole endeavor useless and painfully embarrassing.

“Hey.”

He greeted him, squaring his shoulders.

“Hello,” Otabek greeted him in turn.

He looked around the rink while Yuri desperately tried to read his expression. As far as he could tell, it met with Otabek’s approval.

“It’s bigger than I imagined. Thank you for having me here.”

Yuri coughed. “Yeah. No problem.”

Otabek frowned. “Are you all right? You look upset.”

Yuri took another deep breath in through his nose, exhaling through his mouth.

“Listen--Beka, I—“

Panicking at the last minute, he accidentally shoved the rose towards him. Otabek looked down at it and inhaled sharply, his eyes widening.

“For me?”

Cheeks pink, Yuri nodded. Otabek caught his hands, closing the gap between them as he leaned in. Yuri swallowed hard, overwhelmed by just how aware he was of Otabek holding his hands, his lips a breath away from his own.

“Yeah. For you.”

Neither of them could say who closed the gap, but Yuri threw himself into the kiss for all he was worth. Otabek stepped back, one hand on the small of his back to bring him closer, the other still holding his hands and the rose.

The unusually genteel cough alerted him to Yakov’s presence. Reluctantly, the two of them separated, Otabek’s fingers brushing against his as he took the rose from him. A particular kind of tenderness flitted across his face for a moment before he settled into his usual taciturn expression and scrutinized Otabek properly. 

“Humph. Well, fine. But can he bring home gold?”

Squeezing Yuri’s hand, Otabek grinned at him and his heart soared. He returned it.  

“Come on, Beka. Let’s show him what we can do.”

 


End file.
